


Child of the Storm

by NimbusLlewelyn



Series: Child of the Storm Verse [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Bits of DC, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, X-Men
Genre: BAMF!Avengers, BAMF!Clint, BAMF!Natasha, BAMF!Nick Fury, BAMF!Winter Soldier, Canon Snape, Creating My Own Universe, Demigod!Harry, Denser And Wackier, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Feels, Humour, Loads and Loads of Characters - Freeform, M/M, No Bashing, No Harem, NotTamed!Loki, Realistic!Super!Harry, Reformed!Loki, Reinterpreting Canon Creatively, Team as Family, darker and edgier, director's cut, smart!thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimbusLlewelyn/pseuds/NimbusLlewelyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Mexico was not the first time Thor had been a mortal. It was only a refinement of the technique. What if James Potter had been Thor, incarnated as a memoryless newborn? On his death, Odin removed his memories as James, due to grief. In Harry's Third Year, a reformed Loki restores them. Harry now has to deal with a father, a family and a heritage that is going to change the world. Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided that this needed a bit of an overhaul because I rushed it first time round. I also decided that I should a) up my game, b) use this bloody account. 
> 
> As for the story, I am intentionally mimicking the Harry Potter books in that it gets darker and edgier as Harry gets older. And, conveniently, the start is set during Prisoner of Azkaban, when the series got dark and started playing for keeps.
> 
> It’ll be canon compliant for the Harry Potter books up to a point –basic events will still happen, but there will be serious differences as Harry begins to change under the influence of the Avengers. After Book 4, however, all bets are pretty much off.
> 
> It’ll start movieverse for the Avengers, but more and more elements of the comics (primarily 616 and Ultimate) will sneak in over time. For instance, Spider-Man, who is, age wise, Harry's contemporary, will appear, among many others. A few other continuities will get a look in - this is mixing a whole bunch of things together to create something new. Don't fret - things and people will be explained as they come up. A knowledge of comics helps, yes. But it isn't vital.
> 
> First off, the Wizarding World knows about the Avengers. Why? Loki and Thor are of key interest to it, because Loki in particular played a sizeable part in its history. If those two hadn’t been involved, it would be debatable as to whether the Wizarding World would even have noticed the Battle of New York.  
> Now, it’s been a couple of years, time enough for people to get vaguely familiar with the Avengers as a group.  
> I own nothing you recognise. This is only partially betaed, but what betaing has been done has been done by the awesome FaceChanger, who has an amazing talent for both putting up with my numerous flaws and telling me when I'm going wrong.

Just a little higher, Harry thought whilst chasing the snitch. The storm grew around him, dark clouds throbbing ominously, but he didn’t notice, so focused was he on the golden darting object  that was just a few feet away, getting closer and closer to his outstretched hand. He almost had it, and with it, the match.

Then he felt a bone deep coldness settle on him and an entirely different chill, a chill of recognition, ran through him. He had felt this cold before, unnatural and all pervading. The rain nearby was freezing into droplets of ice, pelting him. For once, he was glad for his glasses. He looked around. Dozens of Dementors were all around him. As they drew closer, he began to hear things, just like before, and see flashes of memory.

A dark room and a darker figure who seemed to be robed in shadow. A red haired woman standing between him and Harry.

_Stand aside, you foolish girl!_

The red haired woman, his mother maybe, refusing to stand aside.

_No, please, not Harry!_

The robed figure, Voldemort, raising his wand, a green light issuing from it, the woman falling and then… then he turned on Harry. Another flash, and he raised his wand.

_AVADA KEDAVRA!_

There was another green light and a rushing sound.

It was at that point that his grip on his broom failed. He fell. And as he did, helpless and in truly mortal danger for the first time in his life, unable to do anything to save himself, his unconscious mind and magic screamed one thing.

_HELP ME!_

In Asgard, worlds away, Loki sat bolt upright in his bed as he felt the psychic cry from the child. It would have been impossible for such a distress call, aimlessly flung into the void, to reach him. If not, that was, for who the child was. His _nephew_. With that in mind, he leapt of bed, and as he ran to Thor’s chambers, he noted that his nephew had grown up almost identical to Thor’s lost mortal form. Yes, this was his nephew all right. He had known this would come back to haunt them. He had known that it could not be kept secret forever, indeed, he had opposed the lies in the first place, but recognised their necessity.

“Thor!” he yelled, bursting into his brother’s room.

“What is it brother?” Thor said groggily, Jane struggling to sit up next to him.

“Your son,” Loki said, and smirked as Thor bolted upright.

“What? Is this one of your tricks?” Thor asked suspiciously. Though Loki had found his way back to sanity and now sought to redress the wrongs he had done, he was still as much of a prankster as ever.

Loki rolled his eyes and crossed to Thor's side. “No. I have no time to explain, so we'll have to do this the hard way. My lady Jane, you might want to get out of the way. If what I suspect is correct – as it usually is – then there is a rather impressive memory block on my brother. Releasing it so violently could lead to flailing.” Jane immediately slipped out of the bed, wearing only a small shirt and shorts. Loki smiled slightly. There were many reasons for him to like Jane Foster. First was that she was sensible and kept his brother on a leash by him listening to her good sense, second was that she was very attractive and third was that she didn't ask stupid questions in emergencies, or, indeed, at all.

Loki pressed his hands to his brother's temples, then began muttering spells, smashing through Odin’s magics that had been placed on Thor’s mind. One small blessing was that they had sacrificed in strength to maintain subtlety Suddenly, Thor's eyes went wide, he spasmed several times and he scrambled out of bed, grabbing Mjolnir.

“What is wrong with my son?” he demanded, armour forming.

“Your _son?_ Thor, _what_ is going on?” Jane asked, frowning.

Thor opened his mouth, before Loki cut across him. “Thor, your son is being chased by Dementors. I'll explain. You would only make it worse. Now _GO!_ ”

Thor nodded, eyes wide with terror, and raced out of the room.

“Now, Jane,” Loki said, sitting down on Thor's bed. “You had best join me in sitting down. And I shall explain some things about Thor's past, when he was rendered human before. When he was rendered into a man called James Potter. And it is not a short tale.”

Jane, confused, sat and listened. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do.

* * *

As it turned out, the full story could be neatly summarised as Odin’s first attempt to teach Thor humility by incarnating him as human baby without any of his memories (blocked) or powers (removed) as Thor, and basically give him a second chance, before a planned reintegration of the two sets of memories, leaving Thor with a new and improved outlook on life, and, conveniently, a wife and son.

Unfortunately, Thor’s mortal self had been murdered by a Dark Lord called Voldemort because Thor, being eternally possessed of a hero complex, and his wife were part of a resistance movement and their son was prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord.

For Jane’s part, she thought it sounded vaguely like the intro to a fairly average fantasy novel, but considering she was dating a key member of the Norse Pantheon and currently staying in his home dimension, it made a sort of sense.

“So, James tended to act like a combination of you and Thor because of his unconscious memories, and Odin wiped Thor's memory to stop him going mad with grief and smiting most of Britain,” Jane said slowly, ordering it in her head. Another reason Loki liked her was she actually thought things through and considered before making judgements.

“He did,” Loki said. “Thor regressed to the way he had been before, which led to the later incident involving my mad plan to keep Thor off the throne and obliterate the Frost Giants,” he added, looking somewhat pained, and Jane had rubbed his arm comfortingly. His madness was something of a touchy subject. While he accepted full, if diminished, responsibility for his deeds during that time, that did mean he enjoyed dwelling on it.

“But doesn't Thor now look rather different to James Potter?” Jane asked, frowning. Loki had explained that James Potter’s appearance had been partially based on his.

“Indeed he does, which is why I put an enchantment on him, that allows him to shift between his normal appearance and that of James Potter at will,” Loki said. “It should save my brother from trying to explain a lot of things. Which he is bad at.”

Jane chuckled slightly. Thor was sweet, but he sometimes got a little lost in rambling metaphor and, occasionally, iambic pentameter.

* * *

Sometime before this, Thor, flying as fast as he could, had dived through the Tesseract powered Bifrost portal.

The Bifrost portals were largely Jane’s invention, with a little bit of input and refinement from Tony, Bruce and Erik. She had managed, with machines that were held together largely by duct tape and judicious application of spit and prayers, to create a stable portal to Asgard, one that, since it was less powerful and transported less people, did not carry the same dangers in leaving it open. The old Bifrost had transported armies. This transported maybe ten at a time, no more.

Needless to say, Heimdall had been somewhat surprised when he saw a stick being poked though onto the remains of the Rainbow Bridge, though he had not shown it. While he had seen Jane working on the portals, he hadn’t expected her to achieve in six months what had taken Asgard’s finest mines two hundred years. Though admittedly she’d had a path to follow and a theory to work from, saving over one and a half centuries, and hadn’t needed to construct a giant bridge to power it, it was still a remarkable feat.

Now, there were several Bifrost portals in each of the Nine Realms, doors between realms, controlled by Heimdall from the Rainbow Bridge, the hub from which he could allow or deny travel through the gates and send people anywhere, either through his innate knowledge of the Nine Realms, or if someone wished to be very precise, input of coordinates into the gate.

Thor, while immensely proud of his lover’s achievements, was not in the mood to dwell on the particulars. Relying on the machines magical origins to read his mind and direct him to the correct destination. And it did, pointing him straight towards a black haired speck that was falling towards the ground. Thor raced after him, frantically pouring on as much speed as he could. As he did so, he absently noticed that he now had the appearance of James Potter once more, courtesy of Loki.

A couple of moments later, he closed on his son. They were only a hundred feet from the ground, and falling, falling so fast. He would have to time this perfectly. And he did. He snatched him out of the air, fifty feet up. Hovering, he thrust Mjolnir upwards, and channelled the fury at his son's predicament and the loss of Lily at the Dementors.

There was a warning rumble, then a blinding flash as hundreds of bolts of lightning struck the Dementors, causing them to let out unearthly howls and forcing them to flee. He glared after them. They could be dealt with later. What was more important right now was his son, who was lying unconscious in his arms as they both descended to the ground.

Harry had grown a lot since he'd last held him, Thor thought. Age had only cemented his resemblance to his father, though there were subtle shades of Lily in there. In the background he could hear the crowd cheering, - that certainly brought back memories - and the commentator was saying, ' _And Harry Potter has been caught in mid-air by someone who I am told vastly resembles his father, James Potter, who is flying WITHOUT a broom! And summoning lightning bolts. This is officially the weirdest Quidditch match I have_ ever _seen.'_

“James?” whispered Professor McGonagall.

“Hello Professor,” Thor said, grinning and letting his memories of James Potter take over.

“How?” Dumbledore asked, looking half relieved, half suspicious. Thor couldn't really blame him.

So he lowered his defences and said, “Take a look.”

Dumbledore was a Master Legilimens, and as such, he didn’t dive straight in.

Instead, he carefully probed, sifting through the upper layers of Thor’s mind, always on the lookout for a trap. Once he was satisfied that there was none, he began to investigate in earnest.

First, he examined Thor’s memories of being James as closely as possible, checking for even the smallest sign of fakery.

Second, he did the same, but with less close examination, to Thor’s ordinary memories.

Third and finally, he inspected the connection between, making sure that the memories of James had not been grafted on. As he discovered, they had merely been unearthed, unlocked from behind a vault door in his mind.

While all of this took place at the speed of thought, it still took over five minutes, and though it took Thor some considerable effort of will, he did not move.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “He is who he says he is,” he said, voice effortlessly reaching the whole stadium. “Though it is remarkable.”

“Indeed. The Wizarding World knew me as James Potter,” Thor replied, letting his normal appearance shine through. “The mortal world and the rest of the nine realms know me as Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder and one of the Avengers.”

“Good god,” McGonagall said faintly.

“You called?” Thor asked, grinning, and McGonagall rolled her eyes.

“Definitely James,” she murmured.

“I think, James – do you prefer James, or Thor?” Dumbledore asked.

“Stick with James,” Thor said, switching back to his James Potter face.

“Very well, James. I think we need to talk,” Dumbledore said. “Inside. Though I would be grateful if you could stop this storm.”

Thor looked up at the storm, and whirled his hammer once. The storm petered out into nothingness in a matter of moments, and Thor looked smug. On James Potter's face, it was a very natural expression.

“Is that Snivellus I see up there?” he said, looking over Dumbledore's shoulder at a shocked looking Snape.

“ _Professor_ Snape, James, he teaches Potions now,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “Your son's almost as bad. He just calls him Snape.”

Thor looked down at his unconscious son. “He has potential,” he said solemnly. “Now, I think we should get inside.”

As he said that, the Hufflepuff seeker flew down and landed beside them, the Snitch in his hand.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see the Dementors,” he gabbled in a rush. “It wasn't fair, we should replay the match Professor.”

“I'm sorry Mr Diggory, but once the Snitch is caught, the match is over,” Dumbledore said.

The young man sagged, then sighed. “Oh well.” Then he turned to Thor.

“Mr Potter? My father spoke very well of you,” he said, remarkably calm about seeing someone who was supposed to have been dead for the last twelve years. This was possibly because Dumbledore had vouched for him in a very loud and definite way, and the Wizarding World had long taken Dumbledore’s word as gospel. Or he was just deciding that it would be far easier just to go with it. As he spoke, he held out the Snitch, which Thor took.

“You're Amos Diggory's son, aren't you?” he said.

“The very same, Mr Potter. I'm Cedric,” Cedric said. “Give this to Harry when he wakes up. It's his by all rights.”

Thor looked at him and smiled. “Your father is a good man. And so are you. But I think there is every chance you would have caught the Snitch yourself. Even if you hadn't, you flew through one of the nastiest storms I have seen for a while. And believe me when I say that I know storms.” McGonagall snorted as Thor handed the Snitch back, placing it in Cedric's palm and folding Cedric's fingers over it. The Hufflepuff blinked in surprise, then nodded with a smile.

“Thank you, Mr Potter.”

When Harry woke up, Ron and Hermione were at his bedside. And so was the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, including a bedraggled looking Oliver Wood.

“Hey guys,” he said. “What did I miss?”

“Hey Harry,” the group chorused, then all turned as one to Hermione, who looked a little nervous.

“Harry, we have some good news, and some bad news. The bad news is that after you fell off your broom, it hit the Whomping Willow. I'm sorry,” Hermione said, unrolling the bundles she had been carrying.

“And the good news?” Harry asked, holding back tears. The Nimbus had been part of him. It had been his most prized possession, valued above everything he owned save his wand and Hedwig.

“What do you remember?” Hermione asked.

Harry sighed. “I remember the Dementors, I remember falling off my broom, then someone with dark hair and brown eyes catching me. I'm not sure if that was real, though. Then nothing.”

“The dark haired man was real, Harry. He is… there's no easy way to say this. He's your father, Harry. And his real name is… Thor,” Hermione said slowly.

Harry blinked. Then blinked again.

“I am going to wake up in a minute, find myself in my bed in Gryffindor tower, and dismiss this as a _really_ weird dream, or some kind of illusion,” Harry said in a leaden voice.

“I would be most disappointed to find out that I was an illusion and unaware of it, since I am myself a master illusionist,” a tall dark haired man said, walking into Harry's field of vision and sounding amused. He looked rather, but not exactly, like pictures Harry had seen of James, almost like he was a brother. More to the point, however, he'd seen him on television and in the newspapers. It couldn't be… “Hello Harry. I'm your Uncle Loki.” It was.

Everyone's jaw dropped, and Fred and George dropped to their knees.

“The Norse God of Mischief!” Fred said, sounding awed.

“Pranks!” George added.

“Magic!” Fred said.

“And Chaos!” George said.

“Teach us, we beg you, o master!” both finished at exactly the same time.

Loki looked rather pleased. “Oh get up, you two, I don't need abasement,” he said, smiling in a somewhat self-deprecating fashion. “As for your request… well it has been rather some time since I took on an apprentice, and I would rather like to teach my nephew… nevertheless, I have had as many as four apprentices before, even if Thor mostly taught Godric,” Loki said, mulling it over.

Then he nodded decisively. “I suppose I could teach you both. I can feel that the talent for mischief is strong in you. It matches that of James Potter and his friends, and they were the strongest I've seen in centuries.”

Fred and George looked like they were about to pass out from joy.

“Thank you, master,” they said, bowing.

“Please, just call me Loki. That goes for all of you. Except for Harry, who, if he so wishes, may call me Uncle,” Loki said.

“Assuming this is real, I'd like that. Uncle,” Harry said, mind a whirl.

“Excellent, nephew,” Loki said, beaming. “Now, I'd better go fetch your father. As far as I can tell, he's stopped trying to smite Dumbledore for leaving you with the Dursleys, and now Dumbledore is trying to prevent him from smiting the Dursleys. I'm not sure how successful this is going to be, but it should be fun to watch either way.”

As he turned to go, Hermione looked like she had had an idea. “Wait! Mr Loki, I've got an idea.” She turned to Harry. “You said that the Dursleys care about their reputation as a normal, well off and well to do family?”

Harry nodded.

She turned to Loki. “And Thor is one of the Avengers, right?”

Loki nodded, then began to grin as he caught on.

“I'm sure Tony Stark could manage to destroy them. Or if he couldn't, SHIELD could. Without leaving a single mark,” Hermione said, grinning. Everyone in the room was looking at her with mingled fear, awe, and in the case of Loki, pride.

“Oh I _like_ this one,” he said with a smirk. “You have a remarkably sharp mind, Miss…”

“Granger. Hermione Granger,” Hermione replied.

“Miss Granger, you can consider yourself my fourth apprentice. Stark would do it for Thor, or indeed, even for the fun of it,” Loki said, turning to go. Hermione looked like she was about to pass out. It was not every day one got offered an apprenticeship with the Asgardian God of Magic.

Ron suddenly looked puzzled as Loki left.

“Did he say one of his former apprentices was called Godric? And that he had four?” Ron asked. Everyone's jaw dropped even further as this sunk in. Except Harry who looked blank and lay back down.

“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Are you all right?”

“Hermione. I have just discovered that not only is my father alive, but he is also the Norse God of Thunder and a superhero. And my uncle is a redeemed super villain and the Norse Trickster God who taught the founders and has now taken myself, Fred, George and you on as his apprentices. I'm having just a _little_ trouble taking it all in,” Harry said flatly.

“Your dad's a great guy,” Ron said. “Oliver was trying to drown himself in the sink and your dad dragged him away from the sink and told him that even the best captain can't predict the intervention of Dementors and an enormous storm. And that a good captain should be waiting by his seeker's bed, not trying to drown himself.”

Oliver nodded. “He was pretty emphatic on that part.”

“Can you just tell me what happened before I got here?” Harry interjected.

“Well,” Hermione said. “Dementors were flying up into the storm – towards you – and suddenly, you fell. Then, the sky darkened, and the storm got even bigger as something – your father - shot towards you.”

“I've never seen anyone fly so fast,” Ron said in awe. “Not even a Firebolt could have kept up!”

“Yes Ron,” Hermione said, slightly irritated at being interrupted. “Anyway, he caught you maybe a hundred feet off the ground, and hovered. And then he raised his hammer, and lightning struck the Dementors. All of them at once! After that, he landed, talked to Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and the Hufflepuff Seeker, then took you inside to the hospital wing.”

Harry nodded slowly, processing all of this.

“So where is he now?”

“The Headmaster's office.”

Loki strode towards the Headmasters office. The gargoyle looked at him, realised who he was, and moved respectfully out of the way. It had been there since Hogwarts had first been built, and recognised the god of magic on sight.

“Thank you,” Loki said politely as he reached the moving spiral staircase.

“Not a problem,” was the (literally) gravelly reply.

As the stairs carried him up, he heard Thor loudly saying that he would beat the Dursleys to a pulp and feed them to Fenris, after tying them up with their own intestines.

“Brother,” Loki sighed. “Calm down.”

“Loki?” Thor said in surprise, still wearing his James Potter face. “Jane…”

“Is fine. She's a little unbalanced by it all, but she's dealing with it,” Loki said.

“Jane?” Albus asked.

“Jane Foster, she's –” Thor began.

“An astrophysicist, creator of the Foster theory and the chief mind behind the New Bifrost,” Albus said. “I have heard of her. She's a rather remarkable young woman. I take it that sometime after Lily's death and your father's memory charm, you fell in love once more.”

“Yes,” Thor said. “I did. And… I am confused.”

“Tell us something new,” Loki murmured dryly, and Albus' lips twitched.

“This is serious brother,” Thor said, and his quiet, steely tone caught Loki's immediate attention. “It hurts. For me, it is only a couple of days since I lost my beloved wife. And now I love another woman. My feelings are genuine but…” Thor's face crumpled. “I don't know what to do, what to think, what to say. It _hurts_ ,” he said in a small, childlike voice. Loki sat down beside him and hugged him. As James Potter, Thor and Loki were of a size, Loki being slightly larger.

“I know, brother,” Loki said gently. “It is not wrong for you to feel this way. In fact, I would be astonished and somewhat worried if you did not.”

“That's comforting,” Thor said dryly.

“Your son is awake by the way, and adjusting to having his father back. I've taken him, a friend of his called Hermione Granger and a pair of red headed twins on as apprentices. The twins have a palpable talent for mischief, and Miss Granger shows potential,” Loki said.

“I must confess that I am a little surprised that you would consider Miss Granger as a potential mischief maker,” Dumbledore said. “She is remarkably clever, but rather fond of rules. Within reason.”

“She also suggested a fitting punishment for Harry's erstwhile guardians,” Loki said. “Harry said that they are rather fond of their reputation as a prosperous, normal, well to do family and if _someone_ went out of their way to air their dirty laundry to the world…” he trailed off, as Thor grinned a truly wicked grin that was pure James Potter.

“Tony. Of _course_ ,” he said in a predatory voice. “My son has chosen good friends.”

“There is another thing,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban. We believe he is after Harry.”

“Sirius?” Thor said, puzzled. “Why would he be in Azkaban?”

“He betrayed you and Lily, James,” Dumbledore said, some confusion of his own in his voice. “Peter went to confront him, but against Sirius he didn't stand a chance. Sirius blew up the street and Peter with it.”

Thor stared at him in shock.

“I am sorry, James. Peter received the Order of Merlin First Class posthumously –”

“Peter was our secret keeper,” Thor said flatly, stopping Dumbledore dead.

“I'm sorry?” Dumbledore said in puzzlement.

“Peter was our secret keeper. We knew that everyone would assume it was Sirius, so we picked Peter. AND THE LITTLE RAT BETRAYED US!” Thor roared. “Did Sirius even get a trial?” he snarled.

“I believe he did,” Dumbledore said, frowning. “The days after Lily and your death were rather fraught, and I barely had any time to think about Sirius. I always assumed Bartemius gave him a trial.”

“Well obviously he didn't,” Thor snarled. “If I see Crouch, I'm going to kill him.” He looked over at Loki. “Brother, I need one of your tracking spells immediately.”

Suddenly, the office door opened and Lupin walked in. “You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore?” he asked. Dumbledore had called him by Floo, where he'd been on business. He'd been rather annoyed that said business was causing him to miss his friends' son's Quidditch match, but some things couldn't be helped.

He stopped. James. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. It couldn't be James. James was dead. His wand blurred.

“Who dares use that face?” he snarled.

“Put the wand down, Moony, before I tell Professor Dumbledore what you were doing with Marlene McKinnon in the closet on the fifth floor, Christmas Sixth Year,” then man who looked like James replied.

Remus' eyes widened again. “What were you going to call your first girl?” he asked quietly.

“Eleanor,” James replied, equally quietly.

Remus sheathed his wand. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

James' body shifted. Instead of lean, dark haired, hazel eyed James Potter, a tall, powerfully muscled man with hair that flowed to his shoulders and bright blue eyes stood before him. “My birth name is Thor Odinson,” a voice that was slightly different – maybe a slightly more formal lilt, an indefinable accent – said. “I was incarnated on Earth as James Potter to teach me humility. A memoryless child, born to loving parents. Father has always looked after us both, even when punishing us,” Thor said, a wry smile, looking at Loki, who affectionately rolled his eyes.

“I lived my life. I met you, Sirius and Peter. I had friends. I loved Lily. I loved Harry. And when Voldemort killed me, my spirit, with full knowledge of who and what I was, could do nothing but watch in horror as my wife died. When I woke up in Asgard, I went mad with grief. Father removed my memories. I reverted to how I had been before I was born as James Potter. I never came down to Midgard because I had no reason to.” He looked sorrowful and shifted back to his James Potter form. “I should have been there for Harry.”

“Why did you come now?” Remus asked, curious.

“You can thank my brother for that,” Thor said, nodding to Loki, who bowed.

“Brother?” Remus said, then his eyes widened. “Loki?!”

“At your service,” Loki said, looking slightly smug.

“We built a shrine to you in fourth year,” Remus blurted, before covering his mouth.

Loki was grinning like the Cheshire cat. It was, Remus thought, quite possible that he actually had _been_ the Cheshire cat. “A shrine? Why, brother, I never knew you _cared_ so much,” he said, voice dripping with utter glee.

James glowered at him. It was a quintessential James Potter glower, the one he had always got after he got embarrassed – usually by Lily. “Thanks Moony. He's going to spend the next three centuries ribbing me about this.”

“Oh, not three centuries… two should be sufficient, my _faithful_ worshipper,” Loki said cheerfully.

James growled. It was, Remus remembered, the same sort of noise he'd made after Sirius had made one joke about Lily too many. His face darkened with anger and regret, as it always did when he thought of Sirius.

“James, I'm sorry I didn't take Harry in, but with my circumstances,” he began. James rolled his eyes and pulled him into a hug.

“Relax, Moony, I know. And I hear that you're one of Harry's favourite teachers. And I will be going to teach the Dursley's a lesson in due course. First, I need to find Sirius. And Peter.”

Remus sighed. “James,” he said. “Peter is –”

“A living, traitorous rat bastard who I will kill very slowly indeed,” James said flatly without missing a beat. Remus was non-plussed. “Padfoot was never our secret keeper. We wanted it to be him, but he suggested Peter. So I'm going to find my son's godfather and the man who singlehandedly ruined my life and give them what they deserve.”

“Don't you think you should meet your son first?” Loki interjected. “He will be just as disorientated by this as you are.”

James blinked. “Good point.”

“Someone needs to do the thinking, as you clearly don't,” Loki murmured.

“Suddenly I understand why you,I and Sirius clicked,” Remus observed. “Loki's like a cross between I and Sirius. Short Sirius' lecherous tendencies.”

Loki eyed him speculatively, and glanced at James. “He has a point. I did look in on you every now and then.”

“Really?” James asked curiously.

“What kind of brother do you take me for?”

“A very long lived one who has slept through entire decades?”

“That was one time!”

“What did you do, then?”

“You remember the time that that Snape creature spent a month in pink and purple tutu and his hair had been washed and there were sparkles in it?” Loki asked. “That was me.”

“How could I forget?” James asked, looking like he was reliving a happy memory. He then shot his brother a mild glare. “You would not believe the ticking off Lily gave me for that.”

Remus too, remembered that incident. It had been a happy time.

“I probably wouldn't,” Loki said. “Now, _you_ need to go and talk to your son.”

James took a breath and nodded. He looked, Remus reflected, more frightened than he'd ever seen him, save for Harry's birth. And that particular incident might have had more to do with Lily's blood curdling screams mid labour and her inventive threats – mostly based on horrible things being done to James' testicles if he _ever_ touched her again – than with anything else. 


	2. Confrontations and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor runs the gauntlet of his understandably annoyed son, Snape falls afoul of Thor, more of Loki's past is revealed, some of Odin's plans for James/Thor prior to the attack on Halloween are revealed, the Weasley Twins that Harry's family are just about the best thing since sliced bread and Loki's more recent past comes back to haunt him. Sort of.

Harry looked up as he heard footsteps. In a heartbeat, he realised just why everyone said he looked like his father. Looking at James Potter, also known as Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder and Lightning, was like looking at an older, dark eyed version of himself. He also looked rather nervous as he came to sit down beside Harry's bed, running a hand through his hair distractedly. That was a habit Harry recognised from himself, and it relaxed him a little. It was good to know that both of them were nervous about this meeting.

He watched as his father’s eyes ran up and down his body, focused first on his face, then on his eyes. He sighed, and smiled crookedly. "Long time no see, son," he said quietly.

Harry glared at him for a long moment, then said what he'd been wanting to say ever since he'd found out his father was alive, anger bubbling up in him like a flood of molten lava, burning him within and pricking tears of rage in his eyes. "Where the _bloody hell_ have you _been_?" he snarled. “When I was stuck in that cupboard at Privet Drive, where were you? When I was wishing, no, _praying_ , for someone to come and save me from them, where were you? Why did you answer every prayer in the world but mine? What did I do wrong?!”

James jerked back like he'd been slapped, then replied evenly, "You have done nothing wrong, Harry,” he said. “I was incarnated as James Potter by my father, as a lesson in humility. I had no memories of my past life. Then, when I was murdered, I witnessed your mother's death as a spirit." Pain filled his eyes and he closed them briefly. "I then returned to Asgard. I returned to my original form. And I went mad. Mad with grief and rage. None could stop, none could hold me. Even mighty Heimdall could not restrain me in my madness. But my father could. He removed my memories of my life as James Potter." He reached out and gently took Harry’s hand, squeezing it. Harry stared at the hand, and did not squeeze back. But he did not pull it away either.“If I remembered you, I would have been there faster than greased lightning. I would have rescued you, answered your prayers, loved you and raised you like a father should.” He bowed his head. “But I did not. I could not. And for that, I ask your forgiveness.”

"So why did you come now?" Harry asked, voice quieter now. “Why remember me _now_?”

"When the Dementors closed in on you, you were in mortal peril for the first time in your life, with no way to extract yourself from it. So you sent out a subconscious mystical distress call," James replied. "Loki, my brother, your uncle, picked up on it, and broke the memory enchantment on me. I came down as fast as I could."

Harry digested this information. “So… I didn’t do anything wrong?” he whispered. “You didn’t leave me because… because…” He couldn’t find the words.

James’ eyes filled with tears and he shook his head hard, setting his hair flying in all directions. “No, Harry,” he said, voice low and thrumming with certainty. “Never. I would never leave you of my own will. And you never did anything wrong. I have always loved you, my son, I swear it. Only death itself prised me from your side.”

Harry smiled then, largely out of relief. One unspoken fear that had blossomed in him after the revelation of his father’s continued existence had been countered. He squeezed his father’s hand, and his father smiled back at him. Some things don’t need words.

Then he looked thoughtful. "So… why don't you look like you do on TV?" he asked eventually.

James chuckled, and shifted shape. The chair creaked slightly under his newly enhanced form.

Harry smirked. "Someone needs to go on a diet."

"You take more after my brother than is strictly healthy," James grumbled good naturedly, shifting back.

"Let's just hope I inherited the mischief making rather than the megalomaniacal tendencies," Harry said dryly.

James stared at him. "You used a word with seven syllables in it," he said, shocked.

"I hang around with the smartest witch in the year," Harry said, shrugging. "Some of it was bound to rub off."

"And your mother was top of her year," James noted. He paused, and his eyes widened in horror. "Please tell me you break the rules," he begged, eyes wide. "Please tell me my son isn't… _a goodie-goodie?_ "

"… um, a bit?" Harry ventured. "Does sneaking past traps set up by all the Professor's to get to the Philosopher's stone count? And brewing polyjuice potion in a bathroom and sneaking into the Slytherin common room? And sneaking out at night with your invisibility cloak?"

James grinned, immensely proud. True, there was a certain lack of pranks in there, but the potential was present and it was rich! Of course, Harry was his son. "Yes it does," he said grinning. Then he sobered and looked stern. "I hear that you are less than respectful to Professor Snape, and often refer to him as Snape."

Harry opened his mouth to angrily retort, then saw the twinkle in his father's eyes. His dad was _teasing_ him. He couldn't help but get a warm feeling when he realised that.

"I can only say one thing to such behaviour," James continued solemnly, lips twitching in the beginnings of a grin. "Carry right on with my full support and blessing."

"Thanks… dad," Harry said, testing out the new word. He'd never really used it before. He’d never had a reason to. He looked at his dad, then suddenly reached out and hugged him. His dad stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug. For the first time since he was just over a year old, Harry relaxed completely in the reliable strength of his father's arms, letting himself be gently rocked back and forth. Most teenage boys would have found this awkward. At best. But Harry was not most teenage boys. As a love starved former orphan, he was going to latch onto whatever love he could get, whenever he could get it.

Madame Pomfrey walked in, and stopped, smiling at the father and son. The two were nigh identical – if one discounted the difference between hospital slacks and strange, otherworldly armour – in both appearance and their apparent need to be close to one another. It wasn’t surprising really. She’d been matron at Hogwarts since James had been a school boy, and in her many years of service, she’d seen more than one damaged child pass through the ancient halls.

Whether a muggleborn whose parents had reacted badly to the manifestation of magical powers with abuse, verbal, physical, emotional, and rarely, sexual, or all of the above, or a child, usually from a pureblood family, who had been raised to be a little puppet, dancing to the tune their parents’ desired, by nurses, governesses and House Elves, they were all the same to her. They were children, they were hurting and needed help.

She, the Staff and the Prefects tried to make their lives easier, and help them connect to other people. In the worst cases, they were sent to a mind healer at St Mungo’s, Some muggleborn staff members had recommended psychiatrists and psychologists, and the muggleborns and half-bloods sometimes resorted to those. Purebloods never did, of course. Whatever method was used, sometimes it worked, to one extent or another.

Sometimes it didn’t, and when it did not, it was heartbreaking. Some completely broke down, some retreated into themselves and some put on a mask that said ‘everything’s normal, I’m a functional member of society, nothing to see here’, papering over the cracks. Very rarely had she had the privilege of watching parent and child reunite like this. And somehow, it made it all worth it.

Her heart melted as Harry made a probably unconscious noise that she would normally expect from a much younger child, burrowing his face into his father's shoulder, while his father rubbed his back and hushed him gently. Both were crying, eyes shut. She'd once heard a muggle describe this sort of moment as a Kodak moment. Once she'd had it explained to her what this meant, she thought it suited very nicely.

There was a way to go still. She had watched Harry. When he’d first arrived, underneath the wonder, she saw a rail thin body, fed the bare minimum, his muggle clothes ill-fitting at best and his thin face just a bit too wary about emotions. Not so much that he shunned his peers, indeed, he had formed a very close friendship with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He also seemed to get on well with his other housemates, from what little she saw. But outside of those two, he didn’t really form close emotional bonds, and while he was a polite, friendly, humble (or rather, lacking in self-esteem) boy, the word that seemed to suit him best was ‘repressed’. That was also something she’d seen before.

That said, Remus – another repressed young man, another damaged child, as she well remembered – was keeping an eye on him. And now his father was back and he had a family again. That could only do him a world of good.

Also, apparently Molly Weasley had taken him under her supremely motherly wing, which had probably done him good and laid the foundations for his family. Kindness ran in that family, she reflected, even in the squib cousin. A lovely young man, or so she remembered. Dark haired, above average height, clever and really quite handsome. He’d had a lovely smile, she thought. The family had moved to the Americas, or so she recalled. Apparently he was an accountant now. She frowned in puzzlement. If only she could remember his name…

She heard the hospital wing doors open, shaking her out of her thoughts, and Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and the Weasley twins walked in, chattering as teenagers will, then quieting on beholding the scene before them.

Hermione looked like she was restraining the urge to go 'Aw'. Ron opened his mouth, which was promptly covered by a hand from each twin, who both seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to their little brother. Madame Pomfrey caught their eyes and nodded firmly towards the door. This was not something to be interrupted. Ron looked like he was about to protest, until Hermione hissed something in his ear that ended in 'insensitive berk' and dragged him out by the ear.

A few minutes later, Loki slipped in, paused, and smiled. Silently, he sat down and apparently set himself up as a watchman, keeping a vigilant eye on his surroundings. He glanced at Madame Pomfrey, and winked slyly, before his green eyes, a slightly darker shade than Harry's, continued to rove around the room.

As for Harry, he had clearly drifted off to sleep, comfortably ensconced on his father's cloak padded shoulder. She walked over, careful to be quiet. "If you want to take him into your lap, James, that would be fine."

James, or Thor, as he technically was – now wasn't that a turn up for the books – blinked, then gave her the same stunning smile that she remembered so well from his Hogwarts days. "Thanks," he whispered, and gently, tenderly, lifted his son onto his lap. Harry didn't even stir. The poor boy must have been rather overwhelmed by it all. She watched as James shut his eyes and let his head nod, holding Harry against his chest. She glanced at Loki, who gave her a single, approving nod.

In his book, all was, for now, well.

* * *

 

Eventually, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape walked in. On seeing the sight of the two cuddling, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall smiled. McGonagall even wiped away a couple of tears. Snape on the other hand, was a different story. First, for a long, long moment, there was grief, pain, wistfulness and a thousand other emotions mixed in. Then he sneered, and opened his mouth.

As he did, Loki appeared in front of him out of nowhere, eyes as cold as an Arctic winter. His entire demeanour said, 'what you are about to do is going to piss me off. You piss me off at your peril. Therefore, if you desire to continue your existence in your current form instead of, say, as one of those toads that you use in your potions, I suggest you rethink what you are about to do'.

You can say a lot with body language, if you know how. The real trick, however, is getting the other person to listen.

Snape was a listener. He wisely shut his mouth. Loki promptly ignored him, casting a silence bubble. He smiled. "Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, it is nice to see you," he said warmly. His expression cooled as he glanced briefly at Snape. "As you can see, my brother and his son are asleep. I would appreciate if they were not disturbed."

Dumbledore's lips twitched. "We intended nothing of the kind," he said, eyes hardening as he glanced at Snape, who took the hint. Loki was not the other person in the room practiced at saying a lot with body language.

"Indeed not," he drawled, casting a wary look at Loki, who nodded absently in acknowledgement, then resumed ignoring him.

"Yes, we rather decided against after we heard Miss Granger quite emphatically telling off Ronald Weasley for nearly interrupting them. No malice was, as ever, intended on the part of Mister Weasley, but as ever he has a remarkable ability not to think before he speaks," McGonagall said, lips twitching in amusement.

Loki chuckled softly. "He sounds like Fandral and Volstagg, Asgardian friends of ours, or indeed, Thor himself. I suspect James had similar tendencies."

"Where Lily was concerned, most certainly," Dumbledore said, lips twitching. “Where pranks were involved, however, you could not prise his lips apart with any force on this Earth.”

Loki sobered. "Ah. Yes, Lily." He sighed. "I was going to visit them, you know, a week after Halloween. Voldemort’s attack put paid to that. The plan was that we were slowly going introduce James to his Asgardian heritage, and slowly bring back the memories – but to bolster his identity as James, not overwhelm it. Eventually, he would be taken to Asgard along with Lily, where Harry would, in part, have been raised, alongside any siblings he had in full knowledge of who he was. Lily would have been given the chance to take the trials of Asgard and become an Asgardian. I am confident that she would have done, and certain that she would have passed." He sighed. "I watched them, every now and then. She was an excellent match for my brother, a clever, brave and kind woman and an excellent mother. She would have made a magnificent Queen of Asgard, in the fullness of time."

"How would the Dark Lord have figured in those plans of yours?" Snape asked, sneering. "He would hardly have been a minor obstruction."

"I would have hunted him down and killed him as a threat to peace, and most particularly, to my family," Loki said calmly. His eyes darkened. "And if I ever find his remnants… I shall destroy them. That creature attacked my brother. He tore his love from him and separated him from his child. He is long overdue a slow and painful death."

"I do not think many will object to those plans," McGonagall said, then gasped as Loki suddenly lashed out in a blure, grabbing Snape's left arm, and hauled his sleeve up. Revealing the Dark Mark.

"How interesting," Loki said, voice as cold as arctic pack ice, and shifted his grip, forcing Snape to his knees. "I take it that he serves you now?"

"As a young man, he made mistakes. Mistakes he later regretted," Dumbledore said. "At great personal risk, he became my spy in Voldemort's inner circle. Alas, it was not in time to save Lily and, one way or another, James."

Loki still didn't release Snape's arm, which he held in a vice grip. Snape drew his wand.

"Don't even think about it," Loki said softly. "Unless you want your wand shattered, along with this arm." He looked down at Snape. "What shall I do with you, I wonder," he said. "I've heard many things about you, from students and the castle herself. Few of them are good, some of them very intriguing. Before me kneels the Death Eater who loved a muggleborn. How ironic. She chose my brother, in the end. She chose the man who changed. Have you changed? Now _that_ is a good question."

"Youthful mistakes can be repented of and penance done," Dumbledore said quietly. "You yourself should know that, Loki."

Loki smiled sourly. "True enough." He released his grip. "But know this, Severus Snape. I do not trust you. Headmaster Dumbledore does, but I do not. Your motives may cause you to protect Harry, and do what is right, but you do not understand… goodness is its own reward. And I fear that you still look down on those of non-magical birth. For this and other sins, including the victimisation of my nephew – the castle has a _lot_ to say about _that_ -, I do not like you. I will be watching you. Understood?"

"Understood," Snape growled, getting to his feet.

"Good," Loki said, as Snape stalked out, purposefully slamming down the door as loudly as possible. Loki's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Thor and Harry. Aside from a slight stirring, there was no change, so he let it go.

"Was that strictly necessary?" Dumbledore asked.

"He would never have loved I, my brother or my nephew," Loki said. "So it is better that he fears us. If love cannot be achieved, then fear shall have to suffice. It is imperfect, but often effective."

Dumbledore clearly disagreed, but said nothing, changing the subject. "They are very sweet together," he said.

"Yes they are," Loki agreed. "It is a great pity that this is the first time that Harry remembers his father's love for him, for I watched them when Lily was still alive."

"Even through the Fidelius?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.

Loki grinned. "I created half the spells you use today," he said smugly. "I know how to counter them all, without destroying their integrity." His face darkened. "I even created the spell that killed my brother's mortal form and his wife. Truly, it is a cruel irony that a spell I created to give magicals the means to protect themselves from angry mobs was used by one of them to harm those I loved."

"You _created_ the Killing Curse?" McGonagall asked in shock.

"A very long time ago," Loki said quietly. "I count it among the greatest mistakes that I have ever made, even if it was one made with the best of intentions." He sighed. "I have many, many sins to atone for, Professors."

He glanced at them. "I dare say that we should explain to the students what is happening. If they are anything like what I remember, they will be bursting with curiosity and coming up with the most outlandish rumours."

"I think that would be wise," Dumbledore sighed.

Meanwhile, a rat called Scabbers that had once been a man called Peter Pettigrew decided that now would be a good time to cut his losses. He had never imagined that two Norse Gods would appear and apparently – according to rumour – take an intense interest in Harry. A braver man and a more daring spy would have sought to find out more. As it was, Peter was neither of these. So he made good his escape. After leaving blood and hair behind to implicate the cat, of course.

The students had all gathered in the Great Hall. As Loki had predicted, they were already speculating on just what the apparent merging of Thor and the supposedly dead James Potter meant. They didn’t wonder why James Potter was back from the dead as much as they might have done, simply because a) it was a lesser part of the puzzle, b) the Wizarding World had previous on weird, c) the Wizarding World had previous on Gods too. And if Gods were involved, then all the usual rules went out the window.

"Silence please," Dumbledore said, standing at the podium. Loki was standing next to him. "As you may have noticed, this has been something of an unusual day, even by Hogwarts standards. Those of you who were at the Quidditch match will have seen the pitch invasion by Dementors, and the intervention of a man who controls lightning with a hammer. Those of you who know your Magical history, Norse Mythology and follow the Muggle News may have figured out who he is. He is Thor, the Norse God of Thunder and Lightning."

A wave of excited whispers rose up. So it was true.

"Quiet! He is also the man the Wizarding World once knew as James Potter," Dumbledore said. "Loki, here," Dumbledore said, gesturing at Loki, who smiled slightly and nodded. "Has explained that Thor was incarnated as James Potter, his spirit in the vessel of a mortal newborn, as a method of teaching him humility. The traumatic events of the night that Voldemort attacked the Potters meant that he nearly went insane. His father, Odin, removed his memories to preserve his mind, until Loki sensed that his nephew was in mortal danger, and restored them. I only ask that if you see Thor, whether he chooses to appear in his natural, blonde form, or as he did when he was James Potter, that you do not harass him or Harry. They are both going through a time of great emotional upheaval, and I think they would both appreciate privacy. That is all."

A new wave of chatter rose up as the students did what they did best. Gossip.

As Loki descended from the stage, he was confronted by six students in the sixth and seventh years. He raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" he asked.

They drew their wands. "You killed our parents," one of them, a blonde Gryffindor snarled. "In New York."

"I killed a lot of people's parents, and that was mostly the work of my minions," Loki said evenly. He narrowed his eyes and examined them. "Your father was Alan Scott," he said, pointing at the surprised blonde. He moved onto a dark haired Ravenclaw girl. "Your parents were William and Mary Oakeshott." Next, a blue eyed Hufflepuff girl. "Your father was David Johnson." Next, a brown haired Slytherin girl. "Your mother was Alicia Harper." Next, a red haired Ravenclaw boy. "Your father was Jonathan Webber." Finally, a green eyed Gryffindor girl. "And your parents were Olivia and Mark Barton."

"How did you do that?" the Ravenclaw asked, puzzled. A crowd had formed around them, and Loki could see that the staff were watching him carefully, in case he lashed out. He inwardly snorted. Maybe once he would have done exactly that. But he had changed.

"Because I took it upon myself to memorise the names and faces of everyone whose death I caused, directly or indirectly, in this realm," Loki said seriously. "I am sorry that I have denied you your parents. It grieves me greatly to realise that I have done the same to you as was done to my nephew. While I was insane at the time, that is no excuse. I did you all great wrong, and you have every right to kill me for it."

He held his hands at his sides and went down on one knee, bowing his head. "So kill me. No harm shall come to you for doing it, and no legal sanction shall follow you. My life is in your hands. Whether you crush it or let it go, so I may try to atone for my sins, is up to you. Choose."

The Gryffindor boy jerked his wand up, and pointed it at Loki's bowed head. The others didn't, couldn't move. He was shaking as he did so. He held the wand there for a long time, mouthing the words of the Killing Curse. Then he hurled his wand to ground and began to cry furious tears of frustration and grief.

"That was a little sudden," Loki murmured to himself. "No one else?" he asked.

They mutely shook their heads. "We're not going to kill you," the Ravenclaw girl said seriously. "That would make us no better than you. But we aren't going to forgive. Or forget."

"I expect nothing more," Loki said gravely. They nodded.

And with that, the five left, leaving Loki and the crying boy. Loki gently picked up the wand, examined it for cracks. There were none.

"It is far harder to kill than it first appears," Loki said gently, handing the wand back to the sobbing boy. "And it takes far greater courage to forsake the opportunity for righteous revenge, than it does to take that vengeance. Take it from someone who knows." He smiled. "I taught Godric Gryffindor, you know, a long time before I went insane and sought to rule this world. He would be proud of you."

He patted the boy on the shoulder, and walked away. He had much thinking to do, though he could be gratified that he was still as able to read magical mortals as ever. That boy would never have killed him. Not like that. Not in public. Not when he offered his life.

Loki played for the White Hats these days. This did not mean that he had lost his old instincts. Not by a long shot.

"Now that –" Fred said, watching him go.

"Was pretty awesome," George finished.

They wandered along the corridors, taking secret routes back to the Hospital Wing. Until they ran into Thor, in his James Potter form.

"Wow –"

"You really –"

"Do look –"

"A lot like –"

"Harry," they exclaimed.

Thor chuckled. "You're the Weasley twins, aren't you?"

Both bowed. "I'm Fred –"

"And I'm George –""

"At your service," they finished in unison. Thor chuckled.

"You remind me very much of Gideon and Fabian," he said, smiling. "I hear my brother has taken you on as his apprentices." He raised an eyebrow. "And I suspect that you, prime mischief makers of this era of Hogwarts, had some help."

"Help?" they asked in synchrony.

"From four people. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," Thor said. "Who wrote the Marauders Map."

"How –"

"Do you know –"

"About that?" they asked, puzzled.

Thor smiled. "Because I was Prongs."

"No way," both said in awe, eyes wide.

"Yes way. I'll let you in on a secret – Professor Lupin was Moony," Thor said, and chuckled at their gaping faces. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to Snivellus – I mean, Professor Snape." His face hardened. "I have heard many unpleasant things about him." He paused. "If you wish to visit my son, bear in mind that he is still asleep, and I would appreciate it if he wasn't disturbed."

The twins nodded seriously, and watched as he left. Visit a sleeping Harry, or watch an angry thunder god almost certainly threaten Snape.

It was no contest.

They followed him at a distance, staying a corridor behind him at all times, until Thor found Snape.

"Severus," Thor said quietly. "I would have words with you."

Snape turned, and sneered. "Potter. Are you going to taunt me about how death itself cannot stop you? Your brat is just as arrogant as you ever were, by the way. You must be so proud."

Thor's eyes turned cold, and said, "It is on the subject of my son that I want to talk with you. From what I hear, you've had it out for him since the beginning."

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but Thor ruthlessly overrode him. "It must just _kill_ you to see Lily's eyes staring out of my face, mustn't it," he said, voice merciless. "She was your friend. I think you loved her, which is why you hate him all the more, seeing a living reminder that when it came down to it, she chose me. Not you. _Me_."

Snape merely glared at him.

"I can understand that," Thor said calmly. "I must admit that I might feel much the same in your position. And I accept that you saved my son's life. You have my sincerest thanks for that. Even if you were just paying off your life debt." He sighed. "I also treated you badly when we were both young. We were both culpable in that, but that is no excuse. My behaviour was deeply dishonourable, and you have my sincerest apologies."

"So what now? We're bosom friends for ever more?" Snape asked caustically.

"No. You're a Death Eater. _You_ , change of heart or not, are the one who condemned my wife," Thor said, eyes burning with fury now, closing on Snape, jabbing his right forefinger to emphasise his words.

" _You_ are the one who caused my son to grow up in hell. _You_ are the reason he had no parents. _You_ ," he snarled. "Are the reason my son cried himself to sleep as a child, living in a dark, dank, cobweb ridden cupboard. I shall _not_ forgive. I shall _not_ forget." He calmed himself. "But Albus trusts you. He has uses for you. That has earned you a stay of execution.”

His fist clenched at his hammer and though it might just have been Snape’s imagination, but he thought his saw lightning crackling in

“But be warned, Snape,” Thor said dangerously. “One thing I could never stand was to see those I loved in pain. And if you cause another tear to fall from my son's eyes, directly or indirectly, then I shall show you my _true_ power."

"What? A few lightning bolts?" Snape said, hiding his genuine fear behind sneering bravado.

Thor gave him a smile that contained a sort of cruel little-do-you-know-mortal mirth. It was not a smile that belonged on his open, guileless face. It was a Loki smile. But you don’t live with someone for millennia without picking up a few of their traits, every now and then.

"I am the God of Thunder and Lightning spoken of in ancient myth and whispered legend, Snape," he said softly. A powerful static charge began to build, until sparks danced around Thor. "I am he who battled Jormungand, the father of all great serpents, and fought the greatest Jotunheim had to offer when Merlin was but a suckling babe. I am Thor Odinson, God of the Vikings. Not a petty conjuror of cheap tricks. All the power of the storm, from all the world, flows through my veins. It can be summoned by my hammer at any time, wherever it is. Do you have _any idea_ what that means?”

Snape said nothing, so Thor elaborated.

“A lightning storm in Japan? Mine. A hurricane off the coast of Barbados? Mine again. A brace of tornadoes in Kansas? Mine. All that might, all that destructive force, _mine_ to command. The moment I will it, I wield it. Channelled and guided through the mystic might of my hammer," Thor said, voice menacing, and leaned in close. "And if you hurt my son or his friends, it will be guided right at _you_. _Understood?_ "

Snape nodded slowly and swept away, cloak billowing. Thor snorted, and turned to go, static charge dissipating.

Neither paid attention to the Weasley twins, who were watching from round the corner. They quickly left, and shared awed looks. "It's official," Fred whispered.

"Harry's family are awesome!" George finished. They shared a grin.

"I think brother," Fred said. "That we should tell Harry about this."

"You read my mind, brother," George replied.

They turned and ran back to the Hospital Wing. Harry, they reckoned, would get a real kick of hearing about this.


	3. Explanations and Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor explains his past as James Potter to the Avengers, Loki and Dumbledore have an important discussion and a few of the other players in the game are revealed.

Thor walked out onto the grounds, his feet crunching on the green grass, rimed with frost. He took a deep breath and savoured the crisp Autumn air, which was just beginning to fade into Winter, and surveyed the grounds. Hogwarts, he thought, was beautiful, much as it had been sixteen years ago, when he had last been a student. A student named James Potter, ignorant of so much. Ignorant of the trials of adulthood, the terror of war and how much they had been shielded from. Ignorant of how friend could turn on friend, how people you had trusted for years could turn out to be traitors and how much it hurt to lose someone you loved. Ignorant of who and what he really was.

His gaze settled on a very particular tree, still full of a burning cascade of red, orange and gold leaves. It was an oak, and at first glance, it wasn't really all that special. Unlike the Whomping Willow, it didn't move. It wasn't even all that large. But Thor remembered it because it was special to him.

He and Lily had spent many hours sitting under it, just… _being_. He remembered her laugh, her smile and the way her green eyes had sparkled when she was happy. He remembered the way she had felt in his arms, her warmth, her strength, her gentleness balanced by her furious passion. She had been like fire and life incarnate, so much so that he'd once compared her to a phoenix.

This had led to something of a misunderstanding – few girls enjoying being compared to poultry, pyrotechnic or otherwise – which had required more than a little bit of sweet talking and explaining – and there was a skill that James had been born with that Thor was still only just getting a handle on – on his part, but she had, when she realised what he was getting at, liked the comparison, particularly since it had come with a brooch. While Lily had been far from a shallow material girl, she had liked jewellery as much as the next woman, and this particular piece had struck a chord with her.

Thor smiled a bittersweet smile as he looked at the tree, not in the present, but in the past, when things had been... different.

Rain began to fall, like the sky itself was weeping, but Thor didn't even notice.

Then he frowned slightly. He loved Lily. He loved her so much still that it was agonising. With the return of his memories, her loss was so fresh that it was almost as if it had happened yesterday.

Yet there was Jane. The petite, brilliant woman who had helped him learn the lessons his father had tried and failed to teach him, the one who had stood by him even in the face of one of the most fearsome weapons to cross the face of the universe, controlled by an aloof and alien intelligence with little or no regard for human life and the one who had built a bridge to the heavens. She had captured his heart over three years ago, now. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he loved her, every little part of her, from the frown she got as she unravelled one cosmic mystery or another to the delight and wonder on her face when she had first visited Asgard and the love in her eyes when their gazes met.

He sighed and rubbed his face. This was complicated, to put it mildly.

Strolling through the grounds, pretty much on autopilot, his thoughts drifted back to Lily. He remembered the smell of her hair. He remembered her passion, her fire. He remembered the exhausted but utterly joyful look on her face as she held their newborn son. He remembered his last words to her.

_Lily! Take Harry and go! I'll hold him off!_

He remembered a flash of green. A painless death – the stories were true, it did not hurt in the slightest. Next, slipping away from his mortal form. Then watching, helpless to intervene – and oh, how he had tried, intangible fists striking at Voldemort, finally trying to shield Lily with his ghostly form, invisible to all others, desperately trying to impede the killing curse. He had failed. When the woman he loved had needed him most, he had failed her. That monster had taken Lily from him. He closed his eyes, as grief turned to anger.

When a God grieves, the world grieves with him. And when he is angry, it shares that anger.

The sky darkened as the thin, grey cloud cover darkened to an ominous black, dark clouds rolling from every point of the compass. Lightning began to dance from cloud to cloud in burning ribbons of blue-white light and the wind began to pick up, whipping autumn leaves up into the air in small eddies that grew steadily larger and larger.

The air, already, cold and crisp, a sign of the oncoming winter, sharpened still further into something that carried a knife's edge, darting and slithering through the air like a serpent. The water in the mud was freezing to ice, and the ground was hardening in the now bitter cold. And all the while, rain roared down with unearthly ferocity. A very apt state, Thor thought bitterly, for the land that reminded him of his broken heart.

Then, a bolt of lightning ventured down from the heavens, striking at the turf with the force of falling angel, followed by another and another and another, until the lightning fell like rain and the rain fell like a waterfall. Thunder built like a wave, rolling back and forth throughout the grounds, echoing against the mountains in the distance. The trees groaned and creaked as they swayed and strained in the wind, their remaining leaves stripped like meat from a bone. Without outside

"You will pay, Voldemort," Thor murmured, reining in his temper with difficulty. "But not today."

He began spin his hammer. He had places to be.

"Going somewhere?" Loki asked.

Thor nodded, stopping his spin and imminent flight. "New York. I think I owe the Avengers an explanation, and I wish to enlist Tony's help in getting custody of Harry and destroying the Dursleys'."

"And leaving me with the clean-up," Loki said wryly.

Thor looked around, rather embarrassed. The Hogwarts grounds had taken something of a beating. The water would dry up, and it was too cold to become muddy, as such. The craters, however...

"Under other circumstances, I would be irate at this display of temper," Loki said, then put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "But under these... no apology is necessary." He waved his other hand, and the craters started to reshape themselves. "Besides," he added. "I need to speak to Albus," he said. "And search for Sirius. I will also keep an eye on Harry while you are gone." He smirked slightly. "And do you know, I think that those trees look better without their leaves."

Thor glowered at him briefly, then rolled his eyes and smiled. "Thank you, brother," he said quietly,

"It is nothing," Loki said. He cocked an eyebrow. "Now, I believe that you had somewhere to be?"

Thor nodded, before taking off.

Thor flew as fast as he could. He broke the sound barrier within moments, and left a howling sonic boom behind him as he shot across the Atlantic, angling his flight upwards until he broke out of the atmosphere, accelerating still further in the frictionless vacuum of space. It took him less than twenty minutes to reach the East coast, angling southwards a little to get to New York. He slowed as he reached city limits, landing carefully on the balcony.

Tony looked up as he saw Thor come into land, then stride in. "Hey, big guy. What's up?"

"I need to speak to the Avengers. More to the point, I need to talk to my friends," Thor said.

Something, Tony thought, was different about him. His syntax was more modern, and the accent was less Shakespearean. And there was an expression of mingled pensiveness, sobriety and intent on his face. While Thor's face was not a stranger to any of these expressions, their combined presence was a little odd. Especially in combination with the aforementioned syntax.

"Sure," Tony said, bringing up a holoscreen and quickly typing in a series fo commands. "I'll just call them."

Tony had not lived as long as he had without being paranoid. He had called the Avengers and, in case they were dealing with an impostor, he had ordered JARVIS to run a full scan of Thor's biology, checking to see if a shapeshifter was impersonating him. And, for good measure, he clipped the bands for the latest suit onto his wrists. Thor, displaying uncommonly good observation skills which ratcheted Tony's personal paranoia meter up even further, saw the bands and smiled.

"It's me Tony. I've just regained a few memories. Twenty one years of memories to be precise," Thor said, then sighed. "I need a drink. A strong one."

"Twenty one years. That's a lot, even for an Asgardian Demigod," Tony said as he poured a scotch for himself and one for Thor. It was only three o'clock, but Tony was always ready for a drink. It was, perhaps, one of his better points. Or not. It really depended on your perspective. Besides, it was sundown in less than two hours.

"Actually, the term is god," Thor said, as Tony gulped some of the scotch. "An example of a true demi god, a half human, half god, would be my son."

Thor looked amused as Tony's eyes widened, his cheeks bulged and he spat out the scotch. After he few moments of coughing and spluttering, the billionaire managed to regain his equilibrium and stared at Thor in shock. "You're a dad?" he asked, utterly astonished.

"Yes Tony, I am a father, as I have just rediscovered. The full story can wait until the rest of the Avengers are here, and Pepper too. I feel that I may need her advice on helping Jane adjust to this," Thor said. He paused. "As you have noticed, I sound a little different. You thank the influence of those memories, which, recently regained, are at the forefront of my mind. Not only that, but I have spent the last day or so dealing with a number of people I knew back then."

Tony nodded slowly. "Well, that makes sense in a weird sort of way," he commented wryly. He checked the screens. "Well, all the Avengers are in the tower at the moment, except for Darcy and Selvig, they're in New Mexico, and Loki, well, he was in Asgard with you, as was Jane," he said. "I've just called the rest of them on a personal frequency which Fury hasn't managed to hack yet. Not for lack of trying, but you know." He paused thoughtfully. "Lemme guess. Loki was the one to give you those memories back." Thor nodded confirmation. "Okay, that begs the question, or rather, questions: why did you lose them in the first place? And why did you just get them back?"

"I can collect and inform Darcy and Erik in time. Jane is still in Asgard. Loki observed that my son was in grave danger and broke down the memory block, allowing me to save him. I had to leave in a hurry and he remained to explain to Jane. Since then, he has travelled to Scotland, talking to my son and arranging the transfer of custody from his aunt and uncle," Thor said, and Tony noted his expression darkened significantly when he got to the aunt and uncle, and thunder rolled ominously outside. "And thank you Tony. I'd..." An intriguing series of expressions crossed his face. First widened eyes, a mixture of shock and amusement, swiftly followed by a grim, worried frown. "I think that I would rather not deal with Nicholas at the moment."

"Eh, it's okay. Anything that annoys Nicky boy is automatically a good idea in my book," Tony said casually, while digesting this information.

Thor chuckled. "That would explain a lot of your behaviour."

"It does, doesn't it," Tony agreed, looking up as the lift opened, revealing Pepper, Natasha and Bruce.

"Steve and Clint were sparring, so they'll be up in a minute," Pepper explained to Tony, before turning to Thor with a smile of welcome. "Hi Thor. What's up? I thought that you, Jane and Loki were spending time in Asgard."

"I have something I need to tell you, as my friends," Thor said, expression sobered. "It is a story that has been forgotten and buried these past twelve years. It can wait a few minutes longer." Pepper frowned a frown of puzzlement, but nodded. Bruce looked intrigued, but cautious and Natasha was eyeing Thor, obviously noting the same changes in demeanour that Tony had. Catching her eye, Tony pointedly removed the bracelets, and she nodded. Thor was not some evil shapeshifting monster.

A couple of minutes of slightly awkward silence later, a slightly damp but clean Steve and Clint made their way in.

"Hey, I heard Thor wanted a word," Steve said.

"Indeed I do," Thor said. "I would suggest that you sit down. This may not be the shortest of tales, and it is not the most simple either."

Looking intrigued, Steve sat down. Clint flicked a glance at Natasha, who nodded slightly, then sat down himself.

"Our story starts around thirty five years ago," Thor said. "I was a brave, but extremely arrogant and thoughtless warrior. My father thought that I needed to learn humility, and sent me to earth as a mortal. So far, so familiar."

"Except for the timeline," Natasha said.

Thor nodded. "New Mexico was the second time I was sent to Earth. And this first time was different. The second was, perhaps, a refinement of the technique. I was reborn with no memories of my life on Asgard, to a couple called Charlus and Dorea Potter, and given the name James Potter." Natasha looked up sharply, and traded a speaking glance with Clint. This, perhaps, should have been expected, considering their pasts with SHIELD. But Steve responded too, and of the three of them, Steve was the one who seemed to show outright recognition. These names, or one of them at least, spoke to him.

"I looked rather different then than I do now," Thor continued. "For one, I had dark hair and some superficial resemblance to Loki, though the greater part of my resemblance was to my foster uncle. You would not have met him. Anyway, I was mortal, but I was a wizard. It is not only Asgardians who wield magic, mortals do as well. Indeed, four of their greatest witches and wizards were trained by Loki and myself, though my part mostly extended to the arts of combat – my premier student, Godric Gryffindor, is known even over a thousand years later as one of the greatest duellists of history, so I feel justified in being proud." He smiled slightly. "I also feel that it is something of an irony that I became a student in the House that bears his name."

Then he took a deep breath. This was going to be the hard part. "I grew up, a somewhat spoilt child – I was born to parents who were rich, kindly and quite old, and as the only child I was indulged a lot, as I suspect Tony was," he said, adding the last part at Tony's nods of understanding. "I wanted for nothing. At the age of eleven, I went to a school for young witches and wizards called Hogwarts, in Scotland," Tony gave Thor a sharp look, noting that Loki was probably at the school at this very moment. "I met a boy called Sirius Black, and he became my best friend. In many ways, now I come to think of it, he was very like Tony. Handsome, rich, talented, did not get on with his family at all and underneath the swagger, a good man."

"Stop, you're making me blush," Tony said drily, drawing a chuckle from Thor.

"They have the same sense of humour too. Sirius would have said the exact same thing in that position," he said. "I also met a couple of other boys who were to become my best friends. One was a boy called Remus Lupin, who had the unfortunate curse of lycanthropy. He was a werewolf, turned intentionally by a monster called Fenrir Greyback when he was a child. We called it his 'furry little problem." He chuckled. "Everyone else was under the impression that he owned a badly behaved rabbit. In any case, he did as best he could under the circumstances. And the other boy... he was called Peter Pettigrew." He paused and stopped to take another deep breath as his expression darkened and his large hands bunched into fists on his lap. Thunder rolled outside, louder this time. "I shall spare little breath and time on him, and even that is more than he deserves."

"Thor?" Pepper asked gently.

"I am fine," Thor said, briskly but not unkindly. "My tale has much to go." His face took on a melancholy look. "I met a girl called Lily Evans, and her friend, Severus Snape. Snape I took a dislike to immediately, with his supercilious attitude, greasy hair and hooked nose. Lily, I mostly dismissed, though she intrigued me."

"The beginnings of a crush," Tony said, nodding sagely. Natasha's expression was blank, almost suspiciously so. Pepper noticed.

"You know how this story goes, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"Beginning, middle and end," Natasha replied, just as quietly. "But it's Thor's story to tell."

Thor nodded, apparently not having heard them. "Exactly so, Tony," he said. As time went on, I became a star at the school sport, Quidditch, which was unsurprising since it involved flying. My friends and I became known as the Marauders, the finest pranksters to grace the hall of Hogwarts – for context, we once turned one of the four house tables into a herd of badgers - and we discovered Remus' lycanthropy, which he had been carefully hiding with the aid of the Headmaster. He was our friend and we didn't care if the Wizarding World saw him as a dark creature for something he had no control over. And we came up with a solution."

"This is gonna either be crazy or brilliant," Clint predicted.

"Is there any reason it can't be both?" Steve asked rhetorically. "Please, Thor, carry on."

"One thing that is known about werewolves is that they are relatively docile around animals. It is humans that they consider their prey, for the most part," Thor said. "So I and Sirius, both naturally talented at Transfiguration, studied to become animagi. With sufficient time, effort and care, any witch or wizard can become an Animagus and turn into an animal, though it can be quite dangerous, so most don't. But we discovered how by the time we were fifteen, and helped Peter, not particularly gifted in anyway at all., who became one a few months after us."

"What was your form?" Tony asked, bouncing excitedly. Thor grinned, and stood up out of his chair, and, in answer to Tony's question, where Thor had been standing there was now a large Red Deer Stag in the prime of life, with a fine rack of antlers.

"Wow," Pepper breathed, Natasha and Clint raised simultaneous eyebrows, Steve nearly fell off his stool in shock and Tony reached over to poke Thor, checking to see if the stag was real. It was.

"How?" he asked, stunned.

"It violates the conservation of mass," Bruce said, then added dryly, "congratulations Thor, you have officially broken the laws of physics."

"Look who's talking," Tony retorted.

"The Hulk draws in mass from some unknown dimension," Bruce said. "I've no idea where it comes from or where it goes, but it does."

Thor shifted back and grinned. "I think that Loki could provide an explanation that would satisfy you and explain how Animagism, and indeed the Hulk, and the laws of Physics fit together, but I cannot. Anyway, by around 15, I was an animagus also head over heels in love with Lily. She didn't return my affections, rightly thinking I was arrogant, egotistical and, to use a turn of phrase that Lily was fond of at this time, a complete dickhead. I will admit that I treated Snape, her friend, badly, though he never missed an opportunity to curse me, so I considered turnabout fair play."

"Your other self is sounding more and more like Tony was a few years back," Pepper said dryly.

"I don't think I was quite _that_ bad," Thor said cheekily, continuing as Tony spluttered indignantly.

"Snape fell into bad company, delving into the dark arts, and called Lily, a muggleborn –" Thor paused. "At this point, I feel I should explain that muggleborns are witches and wizards not born into the old Wizarding families, born to non-magical parents. All non-magical people were known as muggles."

"And you were a pureblood," Steve said.

Thor blinked at him in surprise.

"I and the Commandos fought Grindelwald during the War, since he was working with HYDRA," Steve explained. "We operated out of Hogwarts, actually."

Thor rubbed his chin. "Well, that explains a few things," he murmured.

"Uh, what's a pureblood?" Bruce asked.

"And why do I think that I don't like the term?" Tony added.

"Because you are a perceptive man," Thor said grimly.

"A pureblood is someone of purely magical ancestry," Natasha said. "Purely magical parents and grandparents qualifies for the dictionary definition, but in real terms, you're only considered a pureblood if you can't find a single non-magical person in your family tree." She shrugged when the collective gaze moved to her. "SHIELD's dealt with the magical world before. As have I."

"Yes," Thor said cryptically. "They have." Before anyone could ask further – though Natasha looked like she knew exactly what he had alluded to – Thor continued. "I was what was called a pureblood, and many purebloods, though not myself and my parents, thought that muggles were little better than animals and that muggleborns were little better than that. Half-bloods were barely acceptable. They also felt that magical ability was in line with the amount of magical ancestry one had." He made a rude noise to express exactly what he thought of this opinion. "This was bullshit, since Lily was easily the most powerful wanded witch of her generation, if not the most powerful practitioner. I do not know enough about the younger members of the White Council to speak for the Wandless."

Tony opened his mouth.

"SHIELD has a file, Stark, you can hack it later."

Tony shut his mouth.

"But some people refuse to see," Thor said. "Snape eventually called Lily a 'mudblood'."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "It's the Wizarding equivalent of the n-word," he said, expression grim, at the questioning looks.

"Yes," Thor agreed. "Apparently he was completely contrite later – or at least he was when he eventually got out of hospital wing. He begged for forgiveness, but Lily had none of it, for the same reason that I had put him in the hospital wing. He had chosen his side, a group known as the Death Eaters, pureblood supremacists. They were compared by muggleborn and half-blood friends of mine to the SS, and their leader, Voldemort, to Adolf Hitler. And Lily had chosen hers, a group called the Order of the Phoenix, led by our headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

"Your headmaster?" Tony asked dubiously.

"Dumbledore's one of the ten most powerful mystical practitioners on the planet, if not one of the top five," Natasha said. "And he's undoubtedly the most powerful wanded practitioner. He's only a headmaster because he likes teaching."

"A couple of years later, in our final year, I grew up a bit, and she began to love me back. It was young love," Thor said, having ignored this latest interruption clearly lost in memory. Then he visibly snapped back to the present and his face hardened.

"Young love in wartime. The Death Eaters were led by Voldemort, as I have said. He was a fully-fledged Dark Lord. Only Dumbledore could match him for skill and power. To give you an idea of how dangerous he was, the previous Dark Lord, Grindelwald, was the man behind Adolf Hitler. Hitler was his puppet. HYDRA, possibly not." He seemed to hit on a thought. "In fact, Steve, if you fought Grindewald, you would have met Albus," he said, looking at Steve, who nodded.

"We worked together and I liked him. I got the impression he and Grindelwald went back, and not in a good way," Steve said.

"Yes... I'm sure he'll be glad to see you," Thor said. "Anyway. We have got sidetracked. Again."

"Yeah, that happens," Tony said. "But it's interesting at least."

Thor smiled wryly, though the smile was slightly strained. It was also putting off the hard part of this story. "As young couples in wartime do, Lily and I got married at a young age, barely nineteen. When it came to family. Both sets of parents were murdered, though both put up a good fight. Lily's parents had a background in the non-magical secret services, and though in their fifties, took out fifteen Death Eaters and survived several murder attempts before being killed themselves. My own parents, my... adoptive parents, almost, took out six of Voldemort's very best."

"That must have been hard," Pepper said sympathetically.

Thor grimaced. "And it still hurts. They were as much my parents as Odin and Frigga. But Lily and I wanted to get the most out of our probably short lifespans – we fought on the frontlines, as Auror's and part of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's counterpart to the Death Eaters as the government was being corrupted – and married. We were young, happy, and in love. Soon after, Lily was pregnant."

Everyone aside from Tony, who had already been told, and both Clint and Natasha, who seemed to already know, looked shocked as they realised the implications of this.

"Not long before the birth of our first born, Harry James Potter, there was a prophecy. A child born on his birthday, the 31st of July, would have the power to defeat Voldemort. Lily, Harry and I went into hiding. Only one person knew the Secret of our location, our friend, Peter Pettigrew. We put it about that Sirius was the Secret keeper, he being the logical choice," Thor said, and paused to take a deep breath.

"You see, Sirius was a powerful wizard, easily as strong as I was, if not stronger. He was a natural warrior, with a rare and instinctive talent for combat in the same way Steve is an instinctive leader. He was brave, brilliant, witty and a skilled leader. He was a cut above the rest, an up and coming Auror. And he was loyal. He was loyal if it killed him. His animagus was a dog, and that says all that needs to be said. Peter was none of these, though his disloyalty we did not know of. The fact that his animagus was a rat, however, should have been a clue," he said. "Then, on Halloween the year after Harry was born, Pettigrew betrayed us. Voldemort himself attacked. I was caught without my wand, and while with it I was powerful enough to hold him off for long enough to allow Lily and Harry to escape, all I could do was die. My spirit, complete with memories of my true life as Thor, could only watch and weep as Voldemort faced my beloved Lily, telling her to stand aside while she pleaded for Harry's life. She refused to step aside. He killed her in cold blood."

Thor was openly crying now, and all the Avengers looked horror struck.

"My god," Steve whispered softly, and Tony laid an awkward hand on Thor's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Then he turned on Harry. Voldemort used the killing curse, a spell that is impossible to counter, the only protection being to dodge and put something between you and it. And he used it on Harry. And the impossible happened. The curse rebounded, with enough force to tear the house apart, leaving it a smouldering ruin. Harry survived, with a scar, and my spirit was whisked back to Asgard, where I regained my true form. Voldemort was gone, having taken the brunt of the rebounding curse, but Pettigrew and Voldemort's other servants still lived. As soon as I was able, I leapt out of bed, ranting and raving. I wanted to kill every damn Death Eater I could lay my hands on. I wanted revenge, and I was senseless with rage and grief. I remember my father restraining me, and taking the memories of that time, banning any reference to the time I had been away. I was as I had been before. All was forgotten. I did not grieve for my wife, for I did not remember her. I did not search for my son, for I did not know he existed."

"Jesus Christ," Tony muttered, pouring Thor another scotch, which the Thunder God accepted with a nod of thanks, downing it in one. Steve reached across, and took one of Thor's hands in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Tell it in your own time, Thor," Steve said kindly. "From your perspective, you lost someone you loved very dearly only a few days ago. We can wait."

Thor fixed him with a look, then smiled. "Ah, Steve Rogers. This is why you are one of the greatest men I have ever had the good fortune to encounter in my very long life. Thank you, but I will finish the tale. There is little left."

Steve blushed slightly and shrugged. "It's what I'd do for any of my friends," he said.

"Exactly," Thor replied with a knowing smile.

"Hey, bond later, tell story now," Tony said, and Thor rolled his eyes.

"You have caused at least half the interruptions," he pointed out. Tony waved this away as if it was of no consequence. Thor chuckled. "Loki received an unconscious distress call last night from my son. He was being hunted by creatures called Dementors – monsters that devour positive emotion and the souls of any unfortunate enough not to know the Patronus charm, their one weakness. Though, they don't like being struck by lightning much. It upsets them," he added, smirking slightly.

"Loki ran to my room, broke the memory block, and told me to go while he explained to Jane. I saved my son, catching him in mid-air as he fell from his broom – Quidditch is played on flying broomsticks - and drove off the Dementors. I also have Loki to thank for my ability to do this," Thor said, shifting to his James Potter face. "It saves a lot of explaining."

"That's what you looked like as James Potter, right?" Bruce asked, as Natasha studied the face for future reference.

"I did," Thor confirmed. "As some of you may have noticed, I speak differently. That is the influence of the memories. Whether it will continue or fade, I do not know."

"This Lily, what did she look like?" Steve asked curiously.

"Tony, if you could look up a Lily Evans? She would have been thirty three this year," Thor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony obliged, and a virtual screen popped up with pictures of a beautiful red headed and green eyed woman.

"Lily," Thor whispered, apparently transfixed.

"Wow, she's a hottie," Tony said, flicking through her primary school grades. "And smart too."

"She's beautiful," Steve said, squeezing Thor's shoulder. Of all the Avengers, he understood how Thor was feeling best. After all, he had been in the exact same position with Peggy, but he at least had been spared the pain of watching her die.

"Aye, she was, all fire and passion. Anyone who crossed her lived to regret it. She wouldn't tolerate even the slightest injustice, and always had a kind word for the less fortunate. She duelled Voldemort personally at nineteen, and held him off. I can count on both hands the number of people who've done that at any age, and I'm one of them," Thor said, smiling sadly.

Tony zoomed in on one of the better pictures, and Thor reached out, touching the image's hair. "Goodbye Lily," he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Tony, if you would."

Tony obligingly removed the images.

"Thank you, all of you. I needed that. Pepper," Thor said, wiping his tears away, then paused, as if searching for the right words.

"You want advice on how to get your newfound son and girlfriend to adjust to the circumstances and hopefully to get along," Pepper said, and Thor's jaw dropped.

"She's good," Tony said, smirking.

"Come on," Pepper said, taking Thor's arm. "I'll give you some advice and have a word with Jane. You may want to keep Darcy out of it at the moment, because though she is a lovely girl, she's even less tactful than Tony on a bad day." She glanced over her shoulder. "And no, Tony, that was not a challenge."

Tony tried to look innocent, and failed miserably. In a bid to change the subject, he asked, "Won't Loki be giving you this kind of advice too?"

"He will, but he is busy at the moment."

OoOoO

Indeed Loki was. He had teleported into the deep shadows of Dumbledore's office. The man himself was busy reading by the light of a magical lamp that came under the category of 'knick-nack' and dressed in a deep purple dressing gown sewn with silver moons and stars that came under the category of 'cliché'. The rest of the office came under the same category, giving off an aura of harmless eccentricity, fitting the archetype of grandfatherly archwizard, warm, comfortable and comforting. Many would say that that was just what Dumbledore was. Others would say that it was a carefully crafted illusion. In truth, it wasn't either. It was not an act, as such, but perhaps a persona, one determinedly settled into after the follies of a very misspent youth. It reflected the man himself, but only one side of him. The other side stayed very determinedly hidden.

But hints of it won out. The marble chess board, not alive as was the custom in the Wizardng World, was a stark, cold reminder of what this man was capable of, for those who knew how to look. He was a good man, often a kind man. But a long, long time ago, he had learned how to be ruthless.

"You are quite the chessmaster," Loki said calmly. To his credit, Dumbledore didn't look startled. Merely mildly amused, as if he had been expecting this.

"I have always rather enjoyed the game, though I try not to over indulge," he said calmly. "To what do I owe this visit, Prince Loki?"

"Little enough," Loki said lightly. "It is just that there is a shadow war between yourself and what remains of Voldemort. You know as well as I that he is not gone. That he is, in fact, on the move."

"Much though I would desire otherwise," Dumbledore agreed.

"I am glad that he still exists. I would hate to have to find my way into the great beyond to rend his spirit into fragments," Loki said, tone still mild. "As for this war you two have going on... it is much like a chess game. For instance," he continued, reaching out, and touching the white King. "Harry is your king. Potentially useful, and if used creatively, very dangerous. But also gravely at risk and to be protected at all costs. Voldemort, currently, is his own King. Again, dangerous, but vulnerable. As for the rest... Now, Let us see." He moved his hand across. "The Knight, a piece that moves in unexpected fashions. That is Snape, your spy. A pawn, a small piece that could yet become more, that is Sirius Black. A powerful wizard in his own right, he could yet become useful. But not yet. He is still lost. It is more the higher order pieces that concern us. Especially since we can introduce some new pieces," Loki said, lifting one up and examining it. "The Queen, the most powerful and arguably the most valuable piece on the board. That is my brother. Before a powerful wizard, now an extremely powerful deity, orders of magnitude beyond counting greater than he was before, he is probably your single most powerful asset. I myself am a Knight. Dangerous, and unpredictable." He smirked. "And in my case, impossible to predict for both sides."

Dumbledore had steepled his fingers and was watching him.

"Then Anthony Stark, Iron Man. Powerful and direct, he would make a good Rook. The other Rook is Doctor Banner, otherwise known as the Hulk. The two Bishops, one would be Captain Rogers," Loki said thoughtfully.

"Miss Romanova and Mister Barton?" Dumbledore asked.

"Pawns both," Loki said. "Natasha in particular. She is apparently harmless, but really the most dangerous of them all, if you leave her unwatched. Clint is not dissimilar." He looked at Dumbledore. "When I tried to rule this world, it was her that was my undoing. She is a valuable ally and a terrifying enemy." He met the other man's gaze. "But I think you know that well enough."

"We have crossed paths," Dumbledore acknowledged. "And you have not mentioned the other bishop."

"Ah yes... the famous, or perhaps infamous, Scarlet Witch," Loki said softly. "The second most powerful mortal practitioner to currently walk the Earth."

"And she, like her former teacher, has secluded herself from the magical world, maybe even the mundane one as well. Unlike him, I am not sure that she will return," Dumbledore reminded him. "You cannot use a piece," he said, picking it up. "That is not even on the board."

"Oh," Loki said, reaching out to take the bishop. "I would not be so sure. She is active, Professor, and has been for years. Just... quietly. And if anything will smoke her out..."

Dumbledore inclined his head in thoughtful acknowledgement as Loki sat down. "Yes. She is his godmother, after all," he said. "And if circumstances had allowed..."

"Yes, I had wondered about that," Loki said. "Thor doubtless will, once he's sorted through all his new found memories, which could take some time. Why did she not take him in."

Dumbledore said one word. "Strange."

Loki's eyes narrowed in thought. "He Saw something."

"That was one of the reasons," Dumbledore said. A smile flickered across his face. "I suspect that you can deduce the others. And I also suspect that we are skirting around the purpose of your being here.

"Very well, we shall cut to the chase," Loki said, making a note to take up that challenge. "And I am here to warn you – good intentions or no, any manipulation that leads to my brother or nephew coming to harm will be met _severe_ punitive action."

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "I understand," he said quietly. "I cannot promise that my plans will not involve one or the other being placed in danger. And I am not entirely sure whether your brother will follow my lead."

"He follows Steve's lead, and Steve trusts you."

"And you do not?"

Loki smiled slightly. "I believe the phrase is, 'takes one to know one'."

"Then you know that if I can avoid them being hurt, I will," Dumbledore said.

Loki looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "See that you do," he said, standing.

"And Loki?"

"Yes?"

"Your nephew is still my student. Your brother was also a student of mine, once. So let me now say that your warning cuts both ways," Dumbledore said quietly. Both knew that comparing their respective powers was like comparing a lake to the oceans of the world. And they both knew that it was a warning in earnest.

Loki chuckled softly. "I would be disappointed if you had not said it," he said, and teleported away in a shadowy swirl of golden-green robes.

"I do wonder if he just did that to show off," Dumbledore murmured to Fawkes, slightly amused. "After all, I would have done."

He went back to his book. The Tale of the Three Brothers had always fascinated him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting chapters intermittently, as I edit them to suit, when Real Life and other commitments don't butt in. If you want more, head over to my account on fanfiction dot net - this is just the Director's Cut, polished and smartened up. The main story is there, and there's considerably more of it.
> 
> Important notice – do not try and figure out the plot by:
> 
> First, considering what you know of the Wizarding and Marvel worlds. Yes, there will be many things that are familiar. The core characters are the same. The older, more recognisable names will be too. 
> 
> But I will be drawing from both obscure canon and my own imagination to put a unique spin on matters, one that will become more and more obvious as time goes by. 
> 
> Characters will not go down the paths you expect. This is my story, not merely a retelling of what has gone before. To quote Captain Jack Harkness, ‘This is when everything changes’.
> 
> Second, comparing the respective power levels of Marvel characters and Wizards. It is very emphatically not going to be a simple case of Top Trumps. Though it seems surprising now, when everything is warm, fluffy and nice, the good guys won’t always win. The bad guys, the rogues’ gallery, are not going to be confined to the Wizarding World by any stretch of the imagination.
> 
> And the war against Voldemort is, for various reasons, not simply going to be a case of the Avengers rolling straight over him. Yes, it will be very different from canon. And yes, in many ways it will be harder. This is not going to be a simple moral tale of the good guys always winning, no matter how it seems at first. Far from it. There will be suffering, there will be pain, there will be grief and by god there will be angst. There will also be hope, joy, love and laughter. This story will not be just one thing. It will be many things, woven together, to form something greater.
> 
> So sit down, buckle up and hold onto your hats, people. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.


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